


Abominable Focus

by moz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moz/pseuds/moz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Distressed over the Inquisitor's choices and the future of the world, Solas decides to take the Anchor from her by force.</p>
<p>But the spell goes horribly, <em>horribly</em> wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abominable Focus

They had never seen eye to eye.

From their very first conversation, friction had occurred almost instantly. Solas could not remember the last time a single person infuriated him as much as she did.

And of all the people in this world, _she_ was the one with the Anchor.

Oona Trevelyan.

She seemed to go out of her way to disappoint him. Her ignorance, obstinance, and complete aversion to _any_ sort of change, idea, _newfound knowledge_ —

Solas took a deep breath, calming himself as he hurried down the dimly lit corridor. He had to focus. There wasn't much time.

He had almost come to terms with their contempt for one another. Solas knew he needed her alive to stop Corypheus and retrieve his orb, and he had been willing to look past their differences.

But not anymore.

This disdain had culminated to physical aggression when Oona punched him earlier that day. Straight across the jaw. He could still recall the taste of blood, shocked by how quickly the argument had escalated.

Solas smiled at the memory.

She was terrible. A perfect example of just how horrible the people of this age now were. What little hope he’d had for this world had been crushed beneath her awful, human fingertips.

Thedas needed to be corrected. _Purged_ of the simple-minded thugs like her. Solas would make it right.

Which was what brought him to Oona’s chambers in the middle of the night. He had been researching for months (from what little resources the Inquisition could muster).

Magical transference. There _had_ to be a way for him to reclaim the mark from her body. Even if Corypheus had failed the day Haven burned, it was Solas’ magic. Only he could take it back, and take it he would.

The spell was ancient. First attempted millennia ago when humans had not even stepped foot into Thedas. Solas had tried it once, when he’d first encountered the unconscious Inquisitor and studied her mark— _his_ mark. He had failed to extract it from her body then, but after researching old texts, Solas had drawn new hypotheses for how to recover it.

He needed to pour his own magic into _her_ to call the Anchor back to its rightful home, a method he hadn't pursued in case of strange repercussions. But Solas was now at his wits’ end with her, and he had little hope for the world with the Anchor in her hand.

_Oona Trevelyan_. A human warrior of noble birth. She believed elves were in their rightful places, and mages should be locked in Circle cages. She hadn't even bothered to help his friend when Solas _begged_ her to, and it was only by the grace and generosity of Cole and Cassandra that he was able to see Wisdom one last time.

She was a tyrant. A menace. A disease that needed eradication.

Oona looked so innocent as she slept, as if she hadn’t doomed the world by her foolish, ignorant mistakes. Solas hovered over her sleeping form in the dark, nearly laughing at how easy it had been to enter her quarters. Though he supposed Skyhold was more guarded _outside_ its walls rather than in, haste was still of the utmost importance.

Calling his magic forward, he siphoned his aura into Oona’s, feeling the Anchor stir to life. It was a familiar sensation, one that he had spent centuries attached to, like an old friend. And _she_ was keeping it from him.

Solas saw her eyes flutter as Oona stirred into consciousness, but he continued on, although slightly more urgent. He could feel the Anchor unraveling, peeling away from her body and returning to his. Just a little bit more...

Oona gasped suddenly, and that was the last noise he heard before blackness overtook him.

 

* * *

 

Oona blinked at the morning sun filtering in through her curtains. She was... _lower_ than usual, wasn't she?

And it was _cold_. Hard stone dug into her back, and Oona lurched upwards when she realized she was on the floor. For a moment she thought she'd fallen off the bed, only to see _herself_ still lying in it.

She was dead. Some assassin had finally done it. Or the Anchor had done it. _Something_.

Although, her deceased form looked rather peaceful. Dark hair in a tangled mess atop her pillow, her chest rising and falling as if... as if she were still alive?

Oona tore her gaze from the sleeping woman to her own body then... No. This wasn't right.

She was so _pale._

And she recognized these clothes. The tattered tunic, the poorly-sewn breeches, that Maker-awful bone amulet... These were—

One shaking hand rose to the top of her now-bald head.

Oh, Maker, no.

She was _Solas_.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeppppp, it's a body swap AU! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> This is kind of a prologue, so more to come soon! It's going to be a funnnnn ride. ;)


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